By the Firelight
by blueirony
Summary: James watches Lily one night in the common room. James/Lily


A/N: This was written in response to the Bob Dylan Quote challenge by clearcutdiamond from HPFF. I was given the character James Potter I and the song "It Hurts Me Too".

**By the Firelight**

A dark-haired boy of sixteen sits in a worn, wooden chair in a corner of the common room. A textbook sits on the small wooden table in front of him, propped up against a wall. A quill, once in his loose grasp, has fallen to the thick carpeted floor. An ink bottle has tipped onto his half finished essay and the dark ink is slowly soaking the parchment. His glasses lay abandoned on the table in front of him, balancing precariously on the edge. His book bag has fallen from the back of his chair, its contents spilling onto the floor. His red and scarlet tie has fallen loose from its knot, the two ends hanging limply against the white of his shirt. A blanket lies draped across his lap, an afterthought from earlier when he remembered how cold it can become on a winter night like this one. The room is silent, the air still. The last embers in the small fire are dying and a slight chill is sweeping through the room.

He takes no notice of any of this. His tired eyes are fixed on a petite girl sitting across the common room from him, the firelight reflecting off the smooth lines of her face.

It is not often he has the chance to observe her, without interruptions, without shame. During mealtimes, he steals a look; in class, a brief glance. But it is only in these few moments, shadowed in the darkness of the evening, where he can really _look_ at her. It is in these quiet moments where he can drink in the beauty of her milky skin, her fiery hair and her sweet smile.

The sight of her in the common room at this hour is not uncommon. Most nights, she sits with her friends, her eyes sparkling as she chats and laughs with them. On some nights, the only sound from her is the scratching of her quill as she finishes her schoolwork. On others, she curls up on the corner of the couch with a textbook, a quill tucked behind her ear.

Yet tonight is different. Something is different about her. A blanket is draped around her shoulders as she sits on the couch, her hair falling loose from the knot at the base of her neck. Her textbook lies on her lap and, though her eyes gaze down at it, he can see they are not moving.

* * *

_So run here, baby, put your little hands in mine, I've got something to tell you. I know you're gonna change your mind. When things go wrong, so wrong with you, it hurts me too._

* * *

She is quiet tonight, quieter than she is on other nights. Though she has been in the same position, staring at the book in her lap for much of the night, he knows her mind and heart are not in what she is doing. He is used to watching her attack everything in her life with vigour and determination. Whether it be practicing a spell in an unused classroom between lessons or buttering her toast in the morning – everything she does, she does with life.

Not tonight.

She looks tired. She looks spent. She looks as though the weight of the world is on her shoulders.

She looks sad.

He can see it in the slump of her slim shoulders. He can see it in the way her head is bowed. And, above all, he can see it in her eyes. Those eyes, those bright green eyes, that, at any other time, shine enough to brighten the darkest room, are dull, lifeless. Those eyes, those bright green eyes that haunt his dreams night after night. Those eyes, those bright green eyes that have engraved themselves into his mind and into his heart.

At any other time, the sight of her brings him joy. The sight of her is enough to bring a smile to his face, a lightness to his chest. But not like this. Not tonight. Not tonight, when he knows that she is in pain. The sight of her tonight is one that brings a frown to his face, a heaviness to his chest.

The sight of her hurts him.

* * *

_I want you, baby, just to understand, I don't wanna be your boss, baby, I just wanna be your man. When things go wrong, so wrong with you, it hurts me too._

* * *

It unsettles him to see her like this. The girl he sees every day walks through the halls and corridors with confidence and a bounce in her step. The girl he sees every day is adored by everyone, students and staff alike. The girl he sees every day is like a shining gem; whenever she enters a room, every eye is drawn to her.

The girl he sees every day is the most beautiful thing in his life.

He is happy when he sees her, when he thinks of her. More than the cherished closeness he shares with his friends, more than the unconditional love of his parents, his happiness lies in the red of her hair, the white of her skin, the green of her eyes. The merest glimpse of her in the hallway is enough for his heart to skip a beat, his knees to weaken. The sounds of her musical voice and tinkling laughter are enough for all thoughts to be completely driven from his mind.

But tonight is different. Tonight she is different. Something is not right in her world, therefore something is not right in his world. And he is willing to do anything to bring things back to the way they should be, where happiness flows from every pore of her body.

He does not know what could have brought her to this state. Perhaps a fight with a dear friend, perhaps a distressing letter from home, perhaps none of those things. Whatever the reason, he longs to take the pain away from her. He longs to cross the room, sit beside her and draw her into his arms. He longs for the feel of the warmth of her body against his, her head nestled in his chest. He longs for a smile to grace her lips.

He longs for her to glow with happiness once again; it is in her happiness where he finds his own.

* * *

_Now when you go home, you don't have to get along. Come back to me, baby; where I live, that's where you belong. When things go wrong, so wrong with you, it hurts me too._

* * *

He does not know when he started feeling like this towards her. He does not know when she began to invade every one of his senses. He does not know when he began to dream of her and only her. All he does know is that his feelings intensify for her with every day that passes. What had started as childish curiosity and a wayward crush has now deepened to something that he does not fully understand himself.

And it scares him.

He is hesitant to label his feelings. Words have run through his head time and time again, but he is careful to not let one linger for too long. What he feels for her is so frighteningly intense and real that he feels naming them will cause him to stumble into a deeper spiral of confusion than the one in which he already is.

It is not normal for him to feel this way about a girl. It is not normal for every part of his being to be so solely focussed on another person, certainly not at this point in his life. He is young, too young. He has looked to his friends for help but has only been answered with a shrug, a shake of the head. He has observed the way the others in his year and the one above behave. Most are just starting to sort out awkward feelings they may have and fumbling through the beginnings of relationships. It is as though he is the only one who feels like this. None of them stop in their tracks at the mere sight of another person. None of them spend hours staring into space with small smiles on their faces, lost in thought.

None of them look at anyone the way he looks at her.

And, tonight, as he looks at her, an ache settles deep in his chest, an ache that will only fade when he sees her smile again, her eyes light up with delight.

* * *

_I love you baby, and you know that it's true. I wouldn't mistreat you, baby, nothing in this world is like you. Yes, when things go wrong, so wrong with you, it hurts me too. When things go wrong, so wrong with you, it hurts me too._

* * *

A yawn escapes him and a quick glance at the battered watch on his wrist tells him of the late hour. He uses the heel of his palms to rub his exhausted eyes as a small voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the early start he has to his day tomorrow. Thoughts of his warm bed in his dorm call to him, and he makes a half-hearted attempt to tidy up his area. He rummages around for his quill and ink bottle and sighs in resignation when he sees his ruined essay. He picks it up and, after a careful examination, deems it pointless to try and salvage it tonight. He will deal it with it tomorrow and makes a mental note to borrow some blotting paper from one of his friends.

His book bag, retrieved from the common room floor, is now packed. However, he makes no move to stand up, instead he looks idly around the room and is surprised to find the common room is now empty; she is the only other person left in the room.

Night has fallen and the only light in the room is the soft light from the almost dead fire. On some level, he is aware that the chilly winter air is permeating through the thin cloth of his shirt, but he finds that he does not care. His mind, his eyes and his heart are still wholly centred on her.

The textbook lies long forgotten to one side of the couch and she is now staring into what little light still shines from the fire. As he watches, he sees her shiver and draw her blanket closer to her body, but with no avail. She continues to shiver slightly and it does not appear to him that the thin blanket will do much to protect her from the cold.

His eyes fall to the thick blanket on his lap. It is hand-woven and deep green in colour, gifted to him from his mother when he was a small child. He is not ashamed to admit that he keeps it close to him in the evenings at school, the smell of it reminding him of the warmth of home. His eyes flick from the blanket to her and back as he absent-mindedly plays with a loose thread on the edge of the blanket. It takes only a split second for him to make his decision.

Before he has time to change his mind, before he questions what he is doing, he has picked up his book bag and crossed the room. He comes to a stop in front of her and his heart beats loudly as he holds the blanket out to her.

* * *

_So run here, baby, put your little hands in mine, I've got something to tell you, baby. I know you're gonna change your mind. When things go wrong, so wrong with you, don't you know, really, don't you know, it hurts me too._

* * *

He is not sure why he is so nervous. Perhaps it is her temper he knows can flare at any second. Perhaps it is the uncovered skin of her collarbone that is peeking out of the blanket. Perhaps it is simply being this close to her, close enough to touch her. His hands shake slightly as he waits patiently for her to notice him.

Her questioning gaze travels from the fire to the blanket in front of her and up to his face. He swallows slightly as her eyes meet his. Green meets hazel and, for a few seconds, he allows himself to get lost in her eyes. At this distance, the sadness masking the beauty of her eyes is prominent. The ache inside him grows, yet he tries to move past it as he gestures to the blanket.

Her eyes fall to the blanket again and this time when she meets his gaze, her eyes have softened. She smiles at him, a small, hesitant smile. It not as radiant as the wide ones, full of happiness, he has grown used to glimpsing at during the day, but he cannot stop himself from smiling back. He can count on the fingers of one hand the times she has directed a smile at him but every one she has, he treasures and holds the memory of close to his heart. No words need to be said; he asks her a silent question and her small nod is answer enough for him.

He carefully brings the blanket up and around her, his long calloused fingers savouring the touch and warmth of her shoulder, the flowery scent of her washing over him as he inhales deeply. As his hands close the blanket in front of her, he is shocked to feel the soft skin of her hands on his. His eyes dart to her face in surprise as she gently squeezes his hands before letting go and snuggling back into the new warmth. She offers him another smile and this one is a genuine smile. He can still see a hint of sorrow in her face, but some of it has been replaced by genuine contentment.

It may not be much, but it warms him from the inside out. He smiles at her once again, elated in the knowledge that something so small can erase part of her pain.

She burrows deeper into the couch and closes her eyes, a peaceful look spreading across her face. He takes a second to once again marvel at her gentle beauty before picking up his book bag and dragging his tired body to his dorm. He blinks sleepily as he slowly climbs the staircase and thinks longingly of collapsing into bed, but pauses for a moment at the top.

He looks back into the almost dark common room below him and his eyes trace out the lone figure cuddled into the couch. He stares for a moment before continuing on his way to his dorm, a smile playing on his lips.

FIN


End file.
